


Games

by Zombiebarnes



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst and Feels, Feelings, Flirting, Fluff, Games, Garak is a smooth mover, M/M, Teasing, garak's lizard like reflexes, i hate myself but i love star trek, julian is easily flustered, the promenade
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-03-01
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-03-25 15:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13838025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zombiebarnes/pseuds/Zombiebarnes
Summary: Julian Bashir and Elim Garak relate to one another via a series of games.Maybe the old addage that boys only steal your things when they have a crush isn't so far off the mark.





	1. Tag

Thursday evenings aboard the station always seemed particularly lacklustre. Being out in the middle of a dead space perpetually occupied by turmoil and political upheaval tended to have that effect on business, Julian supposed.

One upside he had found of the slower business hours was the lack of customers spending time on the promenade. In fact, Julian had scheduled his weekly day off to coincide with the hump day, and his daily interactions with one specific tailor had certainly benefited from the change in pace. He found Garak to be far more friendly after hours on a Thursday. He watched Garak flit around the store from a stool by the fitting room, busying himself with fussing over his new arrangements. The tailor was attentive, and as always, Julian was enraptured by how his nimble fingers worked the fabric of the tunic he was fixing. It was with a care that Julian could never have imagined that Garak assessed his creations.

He was caught off guard when the eyes that had been so carefully focused turned to him. The tips of his ears were tinged pink as Garak offered him a knowing smirk. It was clear that he knew well enough what was happening. Julian attempted to turn his attention back to the PADD containing his newest patient’s medical data, but to no avail. Garak seemed to cross the room in a number of strides that barely broke double digits, stopping uncomfortably close to the doctor. Their eyes met in the inches between them, Julian looking up just in time to watch the PADD be whisked out of his hands.

Garak spoke with his usual, measured intonation, and an almost imperceptible quirk of his brow. “Now, Doctor. If you’re going to spend your time here, it seems a waste to do nothing but stare at that old thing. You may just as well be holed up in sickbay.”  
Julian offered him a weary smile, and held out a hand.  
“Right you are, but I’m going to need that back. Classified information.”  
“Classified?” There was a twinkle in his eyes as he studied the little device.  
“Yes, Classified. Give me that.”

He lunged for the PADD as Garak pulled away (damn those lizard-like reflexes). The look on his friend’s face told him that he had made a dangerous mistake in losing his patience. This was now a game, and no doubt Garak intended to teach him a lesson. He stood up, dusting off his uniform as he watched the Cardassian retreat to other side of the room.

“Julian, you appear to have yourself all in a knot,” He spoke slowly, brandishing the PADD with every step “Could this be what has you so concerned, dear doctor?”  
Julian narrowly resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Elim. You’re behaving like a child.”  
“Oh, it’s just a bit of fun. If you want this to end, you merely need to retrieve it.”

The doctor sighed as he took a few steps, waiting for Garak’s next move. Why on Earth did everything have to be so difficult? Of all the schoolboy crushes Julian had ever had, Garak had to be the most infuriating, more so than the girl he’d liked in med school who had insisted on showing him up in every class. Fortunately, that one had been short lived. Garak moved as if he was sparring, surprisingly silent and light on his feet for a man of his size. Julian felt like a bumbling fool in comparison.  
  
He managed to catch Garak’s wrist as the two danced around one another, feeling the heat of his skin beneath his palm sent a jolt of something -maybe fear, maybe adrenaline- sparking up Julian’s spine. His presence was magnetic. Julian could feel the electricity hum and crackle in the millimetres between them. He was almost sure he was aware of the other man’s heart rate. His muddled thoughts were disrupted by an almost musical tone.

“Nicely done.”  
Heavy breathing.  
“I’d like my PADD.”  
A ridged hand under Julian’s chin, calloused skin touching his. He looked up, involuntarily, straight into a pair of dark eyes.  
“If there’s something you want; you should have the confidence to take it.”  
A noise of frustration.

The moments that followed seemed to stretch beyond any perception of time Julian had ever experienced. A measurement of less than seconds seemed to last several, painstaking hours. Garak played his part perfectly, his eyes never leaving Julian’s, the grip on his upper arm never loosening, even as Julian spoke.  
“I propose a treaty.”  
“You should know that Cardassians are no good at the Federation’s style of diplomacy.” Garak retorted, almost as if he had been expecting this; he had planned for it.  
“I propose a treaty that will benefit both of us.”  
“I would simply love to hear it.”

His heart pounded so hard it threatened to break through his rib cage as he leaned in closer to his counterpart. The silence on the promenade seemed deafening, their breathing echoing in the vacant space around them. As his lips brushed Garak’s, he felt the other’s grip on the PADD loosen at last. He slipped the device from Garak’s hand, tucking it into his back pocket as one of his hand’s came to rest on the back of the man’s neck, pulling him in closer. This must have been the closest they had ever been, and he certainly wasn’t about to let the opportunity slip through his fingers.

Garak moved with the grace of an athlete, spinning the two around, shifting the dynamic. Julian found himself pinned between a warm body and the nearest wall before he could so much as protest his change in circumstance. The Tailor’s fingers traced his jaw, then his neck, then down to his collarbones, enthralled by the smooth skin he found there. Similarly, Julian was enthralled by the ridges that Garak so kindly liked to show off with those plunging necklines of his. He felt his heart jump as lips were lowered to the nape of his neck, and Garak muttered something incomprehensible while the blood rushed through his ears.  
  
Further exploration would be necessary in the future. As a doctor, he was certain he could learn from his interactions with the Cardassian, data was limite- _Oh._  
He felt Garak’s breath only inches from his face as he pulled away, holding up the PADD.

“A treaty indeed.” He said, clear signs of a grin tugging at the corner of his lips as he studied the dishevelled officer stood before him.  
“Elim…”  
“Yes?” A lazy smile spread across Garak’s lips as he remembered his own words - _If there’s something you want; you should have the confidence to **take** it_ \- He spoke again as he walked away, PADD in hand, “Perhaps you’re learning something after all. I’ll see you tomorrow for lunch. Don’t be late.”


	2. Capture the Flag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Julian Bashir and Elim Garak play another childhood favourite- capture the flag.

The med bay was to Julian Bashir as the Promenade was to Elim Garak; a home, a territory, something more than just a work space. The Promenade was fast paced, exciting. Elim found it a welcome respite from his often unsavoury thoughts. The hustle and bustle of Quark’s was just enough to be a distraction without being distracting, necessarily. The med bay, however, was none of these things. It was sterile and frightening in design. Utilitarian, one might say. Garak didn’t care to divulge information about the Cardassian government, but if they _were_ to conceptualise a room specifically for torture and other such unpleasantness, he was sure it would look something like the Space Station’s Medical bay.

Being in the med bay meant playing by Julian Bashir’s rules, and Garak knew this well enough. If there was one thing his various occupations had taught him, it was that it was always unwise to let the enemy have the upper hand. Visiting the med bay very much allowed Bashir the upper hand. Not only was the Doctor aware of it, but it often appeared that he relished the opportunity to ‘take the high road’ as he once referred to it.

The smug look that lit up the doctor’s boyish face as Garak entered the med bay practically made him bristle. It was clear that Julian was pre-preemptively laying claim to his territory. He stood in the doorway, pretending to adjust his collar as the Doctor busied himself with a young girl sat on the edge of a bio bed, and the father fretting beside her. As difficult as he could be, he had a remarkable bedside manner.

“One moment, Mr. Garak,” Julian spoke in an almost sickeningly sweet tone, a song-like quality threaded through his voice.   
Garak took a seat at the edge of the room, waiting patiently, observing as his companion’s fingers moved dexterously across the small screen of the PADD he held in one hand. He scanned the screen, briefly, before he turned to discuss what Garak assumed were the young girl’s results with the increasingly anxious man in front of him. No matter where in the med bay he stood, Garak couldn’t seem to evade Julian’s careful -even curious- gaze. Blending into the shadows was hardly an option in a room with little cover. The lack of exits only served to heighten Garak’s awareness of his predicament. If he were to truly convince Dr. Bashir that he had the upper hand, Garak would have to play by his rules. As such, he waited for Julian to call on him.

The young Doctor’s eyes raked wearily over the alien form in front of him. He rubbed a hand against the nape of his neck, a habit that usually signified something akin to exasperation. In return, Garak offered him an effortless smile, taking a seat on the edge of the bed.   
“Garak.” Julian let out a breath it seemed he may have been holding for hours. “Can I help you?”  
“Oh, but of course, Doctor. I have a medical concern for which I require your expertise.”

Garak watched the Doctor’s shoulder’s tense as he spoke. He wagged a finger.   
“Now, now. We’ll have none of that. I am of perfectly sound physical and mental health, I assure you.”   
Julian’s melodic laugh echoed in the empty room around them, music to the old tailor’s ears. It was at this moment, that Garak -not for the first time- took note of Julian’s lithe figure. The young man was something of a sight to behold. Not unlike what Garak had heard one might look for in a woman. Eyes that seemed otherworldly and practically effervescent, overflowing with optimism and excitement. Full lips. His collarbones, however, were a sight to behold. They were so sharp and well defined that noticing the ridges beneath his uniform felt practically sinful.  
“I’ll believe that when I see it, Garak. Now, what seems to be the problem?” The concerned expression etched across Julian’s face evoked memories of happier times and places that didn’t feel like prisons. Memories of home. The warmth of Cardassia’s summer.

Garak grimaced, feeling a dull ache settle in his chest. _Very professional, congratulations. Now who looks like an idiot?_  
“Well, My dear doctor. I’ve been having a few…interesting symptoms you may care to hear about.”  
“I’m listening.”  
Garak drew himself to his full height, fingers idly drumming against his knee. Julian began to take notes as Garak spoke.   
“I’ve been having chest pains at inopportune moments. My heart rate is unusually fast, I find myself preoccupied, daydreaming. Cold flushes have been involved, though I hasten to admit it.”

Julian paused, his brows knitting together as he paced back and forth in front of the bed. Watching from the sidelines, Garak look slightly amused. Surely he hadn’t managed to confound the great Dr. Julian Bashir with such a simple medical query. Suddenly, as if pulled to attention by an invisible rope, Julian stopped, abruptly turning to face him, a wry smile spreading across his face.

“Mr. Garak, is there someone special in your life?” He grinned  
Garak narrowly resisted the urge to laugh. Someone special? Whatever was he getting onto?   
“Doctor Bashir, I thought you would know me better than that after all our da-“he stopped midsentence, clearing his throat to hide his momentary lapse in better judgement. “Dinners.”  
“Well, I don’t know how to tell you this, Garak, but these all sound like symptoms of a plain and simple crush.”

At that, he practically scoffed. Even the implication left him speechless. Julian had managed to catch Garak off guard, and in his eagerness to regain his foothold, his control over the territory; to make a plan, Garak barely noticed when Julian crossed the room, closing the space between them to mere inches. There was a noticeable dilation in his pupils as the Doctor approached. Even from a distance he could smell the Doctor, his deodorant, in that moment at least, seemed the most heavenly scent Garak could ever have recalled smelling. One of Julian’s hands came to rest on the Cardassian’s broad shoulders, tracing a seam down to his collar, his fingers tracing the ridges he found there. The hitch in Garak’s breath was too obvious for the Doctor to feign ignorance. Wordplay was a difficult art to master when the object of your desire stood in front of you.

He swallowed hard, mustering the courage to fix the doctor with a hard stare.   
“What on earth are you doing?”   
Julian barely managed to abstain from rolling his eyes as both of his hands came to rest on the tailor’s shoulders.   
“Would you be opposed to receiving a kiss?”  
“Is that your professional recommendation?”  
“Naturally. We’ll see if it won’t fix the problem.”

The good Doctor’s lips were soft and warm against his own, and it seemed to Garak that he w _as_ home, finally. After all these years, he could wrap himself around a handsome Starfleet officer, at least for a few precious moments. Someone unflinchingly loyal. Someone outside of Cardassia who didn’t seem to spare a thought for his status.

“Bold of you to assume you were the cure I needed, Julian.”


End file.
